<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Five Times Hal Complains and One He Shuts The Hell Up by ChocolateTeapots</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30006087">Five Times Hal Complains and One He Shuts The Hell Up</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateTeapots/pseuds/ChocolateTeapots'>ChocolateTeapots</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DCU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5+1 Things, A Little Actual Dining, Bad Airport Etiquette, Cameos by other Justice League members, Chapters of Varying Silliness, In-Universe RPF, M/M, Misuse of Aerodynamics, Pining, Whining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:33:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,497</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30006087</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateTeapots/pseuds/ChocolateTeapots</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hal’s back on Earth, and he’s got plans involving his best friend.  Let the whining and dining commence!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Barry Allen/Hal Jordan, Hal Jordan &amp; Bruce Wayne, Hal Jordan &amp; Dinah Lance, Hal Jordan &amp; Oliver Queen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>82</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Lights, Camera, Whining!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/finalfrontierpioneer/gifts">finalfrontierpioneer</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you for putting up with my whining about outlines and repaying it with actual, useful advice!  I'm the farthest I've ever gotten in that process and it's all thanks to our conversations.  In the meantime, here's a thing.</p>
<p>And thank you as always to my beta <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/gumiii_writes/pseuds/gumiii_writes">gumiii_writes</a> for taking time out of your Bessie evangelism to help me word things in a way that's not completely incomprehensible.  I'm running out of new ways to say it, but please know how grateful I am for your help.</p>
<p>Set (loosely) in the N52!  Everything else about the setting should (hopefully) be in the fic!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hal stares at the coat rack, ignoring the tap tap tap off to his right.  The room around him is carefully curated to be generically inviting and trendy, like the waiting room at an expensive dentist.  He’d been to one of those once, back when he’d been dating Carol.  Hal visits other planets on the regular, and that had legitimately been one of the weirdest experiences of his entire life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Visiting the dentist sounds like a fun time, given what he’s actually doing.  Across from him, bright, bold letters on the wall proclaim “The Nightly Show with Lily Liu!”  He knows next to nothing about the show, besides that it’s the reason he’s here and not off celebrating being back on Earth.  The craft services table’s been decimated, so there’s nothing to do except wait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Really though, it’s the coat rack that encapsulates the ridiculousness of this entire situation.  Hal glares at it, arms crossed.  Had they expected him to, in some misguided attempt at subtlety, show up with a trench coat over his uniform?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The makeup people hadn’t quite known what to do with his mask, so maybe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe we have to do this,” Hal grumbles.  “Where does Bats get off, forcing me to grovel on national TV?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s not totally accurate.  By Bruce’s standards, it’s not even that dickish.  But Hal could be draining Ollie’s liquor cabinet right about now, and Ollie’s got some good shit.  He’s entitled to be a little snitty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hal had made his opinion plain, in a calm, collected argument with only a little yelling, when Bats had insisted on this whole fiasco.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want back into the Justice League?” Bruce had said, after sitting unmoving through Hal’s tirade like the emotionless gargoyle he is. “This is how you prove it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pre-interview prep work had been done by Batman, because apparently Hal’s too stupid to talk about himself for an hour.  One of the Robins had handed him a statement and a list of talking points that essentially boiled down to “Look how responsible I am!  I have all sorts of traits that appeal to the important demographic of Americans ages 18-35!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d thrown the list away as soon as Batman turned his back.  No way is he going to stand in front of a camera with his index cards like a 3rd grader doing a book report.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speaking of nerds, Barry’s sitting just off to his right. He looks horribly out of place in his uniform, like a Flash sticker placed in an Ikea catalogue.  He doesn't respond but continues tapping a sonnet into the floor in Morse code.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hal’s frown deepens at the lack of reaction.  “Seriously, it’s got to be some sort of messed up power trip for him.  We let him walk all over us for years, and now he thinks he can order us to do whatever he wants.”  He pauses, staring at Barry who’s staring at the floor.  “Why are you here, anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because yeah, Hal might not have been on Earth much recently, but he can’t imagine a scenario where Barry’s so in the dog house that he needs to join Hal on his humiliation tour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry sighs.  The foot tapping, if anything, speeds up.  “I’m here because I agree with Batman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flash!  I don’t need a babysitter!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It stings, more than he’s willing to let on.  Barry doing the interview with him </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been the one bright spot in this mess.  They hadn’t seen each other since Hal’s been back or talked about Hal’s new assignment, one that has him on Earth for the foreseeable future and cautiously hopeful about certain possibilities.  He’d been psyched enough to overlook Bats’ blatant exploitation of his and Barry’s friendship, writing it off as some much-needed support during the degradation conga.  Now, though…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re supposed to be on my side!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> on your side, GL,” Barry says, despite his words clearly siding him with the enemy.  “I just agree that a widely viewed interview could help your image and make people more comfortable having you back on the team.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, comfortable.”  Hal kicks out a foot, rattling the undersized coffee table with its oversized flower arrangement.  “You know what the asshole said when I asked why he booked me on a comedy show?” Hal hunches forward, points his index fingers up from his ears, and in his best chronic smoker voice says, “You’ll fit right in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry, the traitor, bites his lip like he’s trying not to laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hal huffs.  It’s hard to be annoyed.  Even he has to grudgingly admit that Bruce executed the burn with perfect, mike drop timing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry leans forward and pats Hal’s knee.  “Okay, I think we can both agree that he could have presented the idea better.”  His foot had calmed down while he’d been getting his face back under control, but now he’s shifting in his seat.  Hal’s in an identical one, and can attest that they’re plenty comfortable, if overdesigned.  “But you have to remember, the last time the general public saw you, Wonder Woman had just punched you through a car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hal juts out his chin.  “She punched Superman through a car too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not the point.”  Barry shifts again, his fingers momentarily squeezing Hal’s knee.  “People have had three years to get to know her when she’s not brawling with her teammates.  They’ve seen her save people from falling buildings, and let little girls braid her hair.  They feel like they </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> her.”  He pauses, waiting until he catches Hal’s eye to continue.  “But they don’t know you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a lot in there Hal doesn’t want to unpack.  He could snap back that if people didn’t know him after five years on the Justice League, then one TV interview isn’t going to change that.  But it’s not a good time; they have to be going out on stage any minute now.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“…I’m not letting any kids near my hair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry laughs, the sound loosening the knots that have been tying themselves in Hal’s chest.  “I know.  I’m sure it takes a lot of work to keep it looking that effortlessly disheveled.”  Despite Barry’s obvious playful tone, Hal finds himself grinning.  God, he’s starved for compliments.  Barry pats his knee again.  “It’s going to be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That makes Hal pause.  For all his bellyaching, he’d never doubted </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  He’s faced down some pretty powerful dudes with Barry at his side – Darkseid, alternate universe Justice Leagues, the IRS that one time – without worrying about the outcome.  A studio audience can hardly compare.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s Barry’s need to say that at all that’s far more concerning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, fine, whatever.  You can stop trying to convince me; we both know I’m going to do the interview.”  He leans in, getting in Barry’s face and capturing his hand before he can pull it away.  “But what are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> so nervous about?  You look like you’re about to fidget out of your suit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry stills immediately at Hal’s accusation.  “I’m sorry.  I just have a bit of stage fright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hal raises an eyebrow.  “You do interviews with Iris all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First, that’s different; I know her, and Central.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hal takes a moment to appreciate Barry’s ability to be friends with his exes.  He can’t even begin to imagine how much simpler his life would be with that superpower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I probably should have led with this,” Barry continues quietly, oblivious to Hal’s aside, “but I’m really happy you want to rejoin the League.  I want the rest of the world to see you as the hero that you are, and not as a dangerous loose cannon.  And while I think this will help, I’m worried I’ll mess it up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’ll</span>
  </em>
  <span> mess it up?”  That has to be some crazy stage fright talking right now, because both of them know that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hal’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> the one who’s going to say something crass, or insensitive, or just come across as a reckless asshole with a nuke on his finger.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kind of like he just did with Barry.  The tension that had been building in the room since they started talking vanishes with Barry’s admission.  Hal’s left feeling like a dick, but that’s familiar territory.  Knowing Barry, there won’t be any lasting consequences beyond maybe buying the next time they go to Big Belly Burger, and Hal had been planning to do that anyway.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A producer pokes his head into the room, signalling that it’s time for their segment.  Barry doesn't move, apparently still caught up in his nerves, so Hal offers him a hand and a lopsided grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just had to say all that right before we go on stage, didn’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry lets out a shaky laugh and then they’re both heading out to face the crowd.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>He really should have seen this coming, Hal thinks as he launches into another story of space heroics.  Because he likes talking, especially about himself.  He’s playing right into Bruce’s hand but he can’t even bring himself to care.  He hopes Bats is having a good time, hanging upside down in whatever belfry he’s watching from.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d walked on stage to a roaring crowd and too bright lights.  He’d been glad he was mentally prepared; the last time he’d been in a situation like this with Barry, they’d been in a gladiatorial death match in another galaxy.  Here, though, all they’re facing is an oversized desk, a smiling host, and a row of cameras.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry’s nerves had calmed almost immediately.  He’d spotted a kid in head to toe Flash gear, and the quick exchange had been enough for him to seamlessly transition from Barry-Allen-in-a-costume to the Flash.  The crowd and the cameras had eaten up Barry’s Midwestern geniality, scoring them instant points.  The titular Lily Liu is personable and charming, and Hal only flirts a little before getting an elbow in the ribs from Barry and a laugh from the audience.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While they’d kept the powers to a minimum – “To look down to earth, remind people that, underneath it all, we’re just like them” – when prompted, Hal couldn’t resist flying over the audience.  Lily had joked to Barry that he’d have to rescue Hal from the rafters, and Hal may have thrown in an extra showy loop when Barry replied, “You don’t have to worry.  He’s the best flier in the League.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Best of all, they’d addressed the hard questions early in the interview.  Lily asked him point blank about his fight with Diana and why he’s just now coming back into the public eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wonder Woman’s a friend.  We’ve long since put that behind us personally, and put systems in place for better internal conflict resolution.  We just haven’t been public about it since I was on a deployment on the other side of the universe.  But I’m back now, and we all want people to know that, while we may have our differences, we’re united in our mission to keep people safe.  That’s the most important thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d turned to include Barry in the conversation and had to make a conscious effort not to visibly preen at the proud smile he’d caught on Barry’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Take that, Bats.  His team of backroom Robins couldn’t have come up with anything better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next couple questions are about the League's latest run-in with Starro.  Hal’s perfectly fine having missed that one – getting mind controlled by a face hugging starfish will never not be embarrassing – and uses the time to study Barry.  Despite Hal’s comment earlier about doing a lot of interviews, he’s surprised with the ease Barry demonstrates in front of the cameras.  It’s a good look on him, engaged and self-assured in a way Hal usually associates with Barry in nerd mode.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it also highlights how much Hal’s missed, being millions of lightyears away for the last couple of years.  He’s happy for Barry, sure – who wouldn’t be, seeing a friend’s gained some well deserved confidence? – but he can’t help the creeping feeling in his gut at seeing how well Barry’s done without Hal around complicating his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are a couple of close calls.  Hal really shouldn’t have brought up the Star Sapphires and their uniforms, and Guy Gardner stories aren’t meant for polite company, but Barry swoops in each time to make a joke or steer the story out of questionable territory.  Hal’s grateful Barry’s here; except for maybe the other Earth Lanterns, there’s no one he’s worked with more.  And apparently experience fighting together against the flavor of the week translates to GL and Flash versus public opinion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, he can see Barry slowly losing his adopted ease with each subsequent gaff.  Hal’s twice needed to casually place a hand on Barry’s knee to still his bouncing leg, and there’s a blurring around his left eye that Hal’s pretty sure is a super speed eye twitch.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We might actually pull this off, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hal thinks as he recounts yet another mission while watching the clock tick down out of the corner of his eye.  Yeah, the anecdote probably wasn’t on Bruce’s “approved Lantern stories” list, but it’s one he told Barry, and Barry’s pretty much Hal’s benchmark for all things appropriate.  Hal makes a couple constructs with his ring to emphasize a point, then uses it to poke at Barry.  He’s rewarded with an exasperated smile and laughs from the audience.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On a more personal note,” Lily says, pivoting into – hopefully – the final topic, “despite your many famous team ups, the two of you are quite the unlikely pair.  How is it working together again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hal glances at the screen showing the stage.  He supposes it’s a natural question, just one he hasn’t been reminded of in a while.  After all, here they are in their complimentary colored onesies, Barry perched politely on the edge of his seat and Hal sprawled on the too-deep chair in a pose that highlights his crotch a bit too much for family friendly programming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hal knows what he wants the answer to be, taking in the fond crinkle of Barry’s eyes under his cowl.  But he’s just gotten back, and it’s not something he’s willing to say out loud just yet.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he sits forward and grabs Barry around the shoulder.  Barry raises an eyebrow, but he’s smiling and goes along when Hal pulls him close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In or out of uniform, this guy’s my best friend.”  Barry fits warm and solid against his side, comfortable despite the heat from the glaring studio lights.  Hal catches Lily’s eye and winks.  “That’s why Bats sent him here to hold my leash.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry freezes under Hal’s arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whoops.  Okay, not too bad.  The audience and host are laughing.  They can totally still salvage this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry huffs.  “If only he’d given me a muzzle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ho-ly shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  They stare at each other for a long moment before Hal bursts out laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd howls far in the background.  Barry’s eyes are saucers as he gapes, slack jawed and red as his suit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hal leans in and whispers conspiratorially into his mic, “No, dude, that’s for tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd erupts and Barry covers his face with his hands.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, that could have gone worse,” Hal says when they’re finally backstage.  The relief is immense.  He rolls his shoulders, reveling in the ease of movement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry huffs a laugh.  He’d collapsed bonelessly on a brightly colored chair as soon as they’d reached the green room, the air of exhaustion clashing with all the bright colors.  “You really couldn’t help yourself, could you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, that</span>
  <em>
    <span> was</span>
  </em>
  <span> me helping myself.”  Hal’s grin widens at Barry’s groan.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doubts Barry read anything into what he said on stage.  Barry’s used to Hal’s antics, and hasn’t reacted any of the other times Hal’s thrown half-joking propositions his way over the years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hal takes a moment to take him in.  Barry’s slumped on the chair, eyes closed.  More experience in front of the cameras or not, Barry’s a textbook wallflower, and he just talked for an hour in front of an audience.  For Hal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Big Belly Burger?” Hal’s attempt at casual veers sideways, and he cringes inwardly.  More of his insecurities had bled into his voice than he’d intended.  Right now, he’ll be happy if they can just pick up their friendship where they left off.  To cover himself, he quickly adds, “My treat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barry doesn’t seem to have noticed a thing though and beams at Hal in a way that has his heart stuttering in his chest.  “Absolutely.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hal ambles through the Watchtower’s break room, snagging a couple snack packs.  It’s late at night and there’s no one else around.  Yeah, he’s staying with Barry for the week, but he tries not to be a total freeloader.  Barry’s grocery bill is horrendous even when he’s not feeding an extra person, and these free snacks aren’t going to eat themselves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The interview had aired, and of course they’d kept the entire exchange about the leash.  Hal didn’t mind; it gave him a front row seat to Barry’s mortified blush, with a special encore performance just for him on the couch off to his right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All in all, Hal’s pretty pleased with himself.  It could have been </span>
  <em>
    <span>way</span>
  </em>
  <span> worse.  If anything, Bats should be</span>
  <em>
    <span> thanking</span>
  </em>
  <span> him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a whooshing behind him and the telltale flutter of a heavy cape.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lantern, we need to talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 1: Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Since I know not everyone reads the comments, please enjoy this silly epilogue to the silly first chapter.  Credit for the gift idea goes to the lovely commenter :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Blah blah blah,” Batman lectures. For the stoic image the guy tries so hard to cultivate, he's a real Chatty Cathy when the topic is Hal’s shortcomings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s been going on for at least ten minutes, and Hal’s at the end of his rope. What’s this guy’s deal? If he’s going to force Hal to jump through more hoops to get back into the League, then just out and say it instead of talking Hal’s ear off!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s just rude. There’s a reason Bats is never the one in front of the TV cameras.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” Hal says when he stops to take a breath. “So am I back in or not, Spooky?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Batman glares at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal’s out of practice reading Bat Glares</span>
  <span>, so he just crosses his arms and stares back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bats gives first. “You’re in,” he says finally. “Your behavior was childish and unbecoming, but within expected parameters. More importantly, you did well addressing the public’s concerns and promoting the League’s image while doing it. Good job.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s… unexpected. Hal blinks, bewildered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bats produces a small wrapped box from his Bat Fanny Pack. “Here. This is for the Flash.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal takes it, still confused. He tears into it immediately; Spooky wouldn’t have given it to him without expecting him to do just that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes Hal a couple seconds to realize what it is. “Really? A muzzle? That’s petty, even for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal looks up to find he’s alone in the break room. That wannabe ninja will use any excuse to pull a disappearing act, won’t he?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Hal cups a hand to his mouth and shouts into the darkness, “I’d get you a dog cone to reciprocate, but it seems redundant since you can’t turn your neck in that cowl anyway!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal winces internally. He’s better than this. He’d agreed to try and get along with Bruce when Barry had brought it up over dinner, but there’s only so much he can take.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But besides Hal being back in the League, Barry’s not hearing about any of this. He can at least count on Bats for that.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Pains, Gains, and Paper Airplanes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I saw some mundane DC headcanon posts floating around the internet.  One of them was “Hal Jordan makes a killer paper airplane,” and I was like, “Yes.  This.”</p>
<p>Thank you too the wonderful <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/gumiii_writes/pseuds/gumiii_writes">gumiii_writes</a> for beta reading and pointing out when I'm using 1950s phrases instead of modern day young person speak :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hal.  Hal stop that!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal ignores him, tearing another of the stupid circular sensors from his chest.  He winces as it rips a few hairs free, and again when that movement pulls at the stitches above his eye.  The machine whines plaintively at him before being silenced mid-beep.  Hal ignores that too and takes a step towards the door.  His chest may feel like he’s been on the wrong side of a game of Rock’em Sock’em Robots – which isn’t actually that far off – but he’s getting out of this goddamn medbay.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry clearly disagrees, and has planted himself between Hal and freedom.  While Hal’s thrilled they’ve been able to pick up as if Hal hadn’t been mostly gone for the last three years, he’s less enthused about this part.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> how he’d hoped to spend more time with Barry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine, Bar,” Hal says, taking an agonizing step around Barry and towards the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry follows him, frustratingly persistent in his man-to-invalid defense.  “I know you heard what J’onn saw on the scans.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The buzz of the fluorescent overhead lights joins the beeping of the machines in their awful chorus, compounding Hal’s headache.  Seriously, who builds a space station and skimps with crappy office park lighting?  The lights are doing their best to wash out the bright red of Barry’s costume, dulling it down to match the pastel tiles and boxy gray Jetsons equipment.  But Barry’s pulled down his cowl, and dreary lighting is no match for the full force of Barry’s disapproving baby blues.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re pretty damn disapproving.  Hal’s only defense is that his vision’s a little blurry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“…and cracked ribs on top of it all,” Barry finishes.  Hal’s managed about three steps towards the door, his route increasingly circuitous as he continues stubbornly around Barry’s interference.  “Please lie down. With the solution in the IV, you’ll feel better in a couple hours.”  When Hal says nothing, Barry gestures at him.  “Hal, you’re not going anywhere.  You’re one giant bruise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This isn’t working.  Time to change tactics.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal meets Barry’s concerned frown with a grin.  “You should see the other guy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did,” Barry says, arms crossed.  “It was a 50 foot tall robotic nutcracker, and it looked fine after smacking you into the pavement.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It didn’t smack me into anything!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I caught you before you could hit the ground.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry looks super unimpressed, which is just wrong.  Ollie’s the unimpressed friend.  Barry’s the friend who’s good for Hal’s ego.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal purses his lips.  Why won’t Barry move?  He knows Hal hates it here.  The entire League does.  They’ve had betting pools on how long it’ll take him to escape, for crying out loud.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But they’d brought him here without asking.  And yeah, maybe he’d been “unresponsive,” and “bleeding internally,” but that wasn’t any excuse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is way simpler in the Corp.  Just Hal, floating alone in space with his will being the only thing keeping his insides on his inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And while he knows Barry’s doing this for Hal’s best interests, knowing Barry would do this for any of his friends is doing nothing for the pit in his stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What am I going to do here?”  Hal throws up his arms and regrets it when fire lances through his chest.  “Sit around and do nothing, is what.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry’s lips twitch, but he has them back to disapproving schoolmarm almost immediately. “Yes, that is the idea.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can do that anywhere!  If I’m going to sit around doing nothing, I’m going to do it at home, thank you very much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hal, your lease lapsed.  I barely rescued your stuff from the landfill.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Huh.  Funny how those things still happen when he’s only away from Earth for a week at a time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, whatever, so I can’t go home.  But I can definitely go somewhere not here.”   He’s shaking as he struggles to keep himself vertical, though that’s less distressing than the growing antsy feeling under his skin.  He smiles harder, focusing on the pain to power through it.  “Like your place.  Or a sunny beach in Cancun.  We can get drinks.  Work on our tans.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why am I there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal wiggles his eyebrows.  The pain stabbing through his face probably ruins the effect.  “Because it’s more fun that way.  Obviously.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry sighs.  “As flattered as I am that you included me in your delusion, that’s not happening.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Too bad.  I’m checking myself out and there’s not a thing you can do to stop me.”  There’s plenty Barry can do to stop him and they both know it.  At the rate Hal’s going, it would take him ten minutes to get out of the room without any interference, like Barry standing in his way or the recycling bin that just rudely jumped out in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal tips forward, barely catching himself on the IV pole.  His free arm flails, smacking against a rolling supply cabinet before it’s whooshed out of the way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry’s there and back so quickly that Hal doesn’t see him move from where he’s hovering, clearly on the verge of dumping Hal back on the cot after his barely averted nosedive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry watches him carefully, jaw clenching and unclenching as he runs a hand through his hair.  It’s just long enough to stick up at funny angles.  “Look,” Barry says, his voice dropping in volume, and that’s when Hal knows he’s in for it.  “I know you don’t need another lecture on being reckless.  You have your own way of doing things, and it works for you most of the time, which is as much as any of us can say.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighs again.  Hal wonders, briefly, if Barry sighed this much the entire time Hal was off in space, but quickly abandons that train of thought.  It doesn’t lead anywhere good.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You dropped three stories before I could catch you,”  Barry continues quietly.  “I know we’ve been doing this for a while, and this should be getting easier.  But it also means I know how hard something has to hit you to knock you out.  It’s not… it scares me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is so much worse than the “don’t be reckless” talk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry takes a half step closer, and Hal doesn’t try to move away.  “You know I wouldn’t play this card if I didn’t think staying here would help.  It’s only a few hours.  Please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal inhales sharply, the stabbing feeling around his ribs far more pleasant than the strong whiff of industrial cleaner.  His heart pounds in his ears, and one of the machines starts beeping faster in time.  Hal reaches for the treacherous sensor to tear it off, but Barry’s faster, removing it with a lot more care than Hal would have afforded it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If it involved anything besides the goddamn medbay, Hal would fold at that.  But he’s still buzzing with nervous energy that has nothing to do with being a head to toe walking bruise.  He can’t stay here another minute.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because he hates lying there, the passage of time only marked by the monitors and his growing antsiness.  Much better to accept the pain of moving than the gaping hollow gnawing at his chest as he passively marinates in the fakey smelling lemon cleaner – one his brain oh so helpfully connects with Coast City General’s, even though they can’t possibly be the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It occurs to Hal that Barry doesn’t know any of this.  He probably suspects, but Hal hasn’t actually told him.  They’d talked about some of it, late at night in the middle of nowhere, the two of them alone with the open sky.  Those feelings of helplessness aren’t uncommon among the world’s finest.  Even the Fastest Man Alive could arrive too late.  Even the most powerful weapon in the universe could not be enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And okay, Hal still doesn’t want to say most of that, particularly with his growing headache.  But maybe there’s something he can give.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just can’t stand being in here, Bar.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So it’s the medbay?” Barry asks, picking up on Hal’s meaning immediately.  “Not the treatment?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal could kiss him.  But that would definitely result in him tipping face first into the cleaner saturated tiles, and even Hal’s more romantic than </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.  I mean, I don’t love being stuck full of needles either, but…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry jumps in at Hal’s slightest hesitation.  “It’s fine.  Is the cot okay?  We can bring it somewhere else.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal would rather leave that too, but Barry’s offering him a lifeline, and Hal is more than happy to take it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>––––</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They end up in the gym.  It smells like floor polish, which isn’t great, and a cold draft blows right past Hal’s cot, but Hal’s already feeling worlds better than he did in the medbay.  The bright lights shine off the glossy floor and scattered exercise equipment.  The whole Watchtower seems empty except for the two of them, though Hal wouldn’t have expected anyone else here this late.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After checking Hal’s IV, Barry disappears for a second and reappears with Hal’s jacket, which he lays gently on a bench with Hal’s shirt and ring.  When he comes back a second time he’s proudly wielding a legal pad, a roll of tape, and a box of paper clips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His grin lights up his entire face, and Hal can’t help the one that creeps onto his own in response.  “Care to demonstrate that paper airplane prowess you’re always bragging about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry says it like Hal brought it up yesterday.  He hadn’t.  By Hal’s recollection, he probably hasn’t mentioned it in years.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His heart does a little flip that has nothing to do with his injuries.  Hal ignores it.  That’s normal friend stuff, and Hal hasn’t managed to find anything definitive since he’s been back to tell him he’s not firmly in the friend zone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s already screwed up some of the limited time they’ve had together since Hal’s been back. Hal would be taken by a sweet gesture, or the way Barry’s face lit up at something cool Hal brought him from another galaxy, or the light catching in Barry’s hair and framing him in ethereal light.  Then Hal would spend the rest of their time trying to pick up something, </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, from Barry to indicate that he might feel the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So far, he’s come up empty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he’s not doing any of that this time.  He’s got paper airplanes to make.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Always,” he says, waving Barry over.  “Bring that here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a little awkward, with the IV jammed in one arm and his entire body being one giant ache, but he puts the plane together in record time.  He hasn’t made a real one in a while, but he’s smacked random assholes with green glowing versions far more recently.  He lifts the plane, ignoring the twinge in his chest as he gives it the final systems check.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s barely pulled back his arm before the plane is zipped out of his hand.  “Hey!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry smiles at him apologetically.  “You can throw some after you heal up a bit.”  He assesses the plane in his hand and turns back to Hal.  “Anything special I should know about throwing this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, just chuck it like a football.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry nods, then takes a few steps forward and throws the plane, putting his whole body and a hint of super speed into the movement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe letting Barry throw isn’t so bad,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hal thinks.  He has a fantastic view of Barry’s fantastic ass.  The Flash suit hugs it in all the right places – i.e. everywhere – and Hal watches the enticing ripple of muscle in fascination.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tears his gaze away in time to catch his creation’s downward descent.  Barry has a hell of a throwing arm; the thing made it most of the way across the gym before coasting smoothly to the polished floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow,” Barry says, eyes locked on the distant plane.  Hal’s more pleased than he has any right to be by the awe in Barry’s voice.  “You weren’t kidding about being good at making those.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal shrugs.  “I look up the world record holder whenever I’m back Earthside.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry walks back to lean against the cot, eyeing Hal sceptically.  “You know the world record holding paper airplane, but not who the President is?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, I’m staying up to date with advancements in my field.”  He pushes the paper towards Barry.  “Want to show me what you’ve got?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh geez, I haven’t made one of these since I was a kid.”  But Barry takes the paper anyway.  He mangles it into a vaguely triangular shape in a whirlwind of movement, and then launches it straight into the ground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh,” he says, staring at it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry’s frown is so serious that Hal can’t help laughing, then groaning as his lungs aggravate his battered ribs.  “Bar, that is straight up embarrassing.  What the hell were you even doing in middle school?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Taking notes,” Barry says dryly, but he comes over and hands Hal the paper.  “Care to show me how it’s done, flyboy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal grins jauntily, then scooches over to the edge of the cot and pats beside him.  The cot’s thin padding dips slightly as Barry climbs up to join him.  It’s wide enough for the two of them, but only barely; they’re pressed together shoulder to knee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d be more distracted by every point of contact if he wasn’t preoccupied by how damn good it feels.  Barry’s accelerating metabolism makes him a natural hot pack, and Hal can practically feel his bruises melting away where they touch.  Hal swallows the groan of relief; much as he’s been downplaying his injuries, every breath reminds him how he feels like he’d been flattened by a steam roller.  This feels amazing.  It’s only through sheer force of will that he doesn’t drape himself over Barry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he can be tempted again, he focuses back on the materials strewn around the cot’s little fold out desk.  “Can you make me another plane?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry nods, speeding through one.  He hands it to Hal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So this is traditional, but it’s not engineered for flying.  See this thing?”  He wiggles a loose flap of paper.  “That’s pure drag.  Same with these limp folds you made.  You want to make sure to get a good, crisp crease.  Like this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He folds a new sheet in half, demonstrating the technique.  Barry tries to copy him, but the weak fold wobbles pathetically in the drafty gym.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal leans in to take Barry’s hands.  They’re really warm against his palms.  Barry relaxes immediately, shifting closer and letting Hal guide him.  “You can go at it harder than that,” Hal says, pressing the side of Barry's nail against the fold.  “You don’t want that flopping around while it’s flying.”  He glances at Barry.  “I know I don’t have to tell </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> about air resistance.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry grins at him.  “Yeah, it’s a real drag.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal groans, dropping his head to Barry’s shoulder.  What a nerd.  But the heat from Barry’s shoulder is doing wonders for his receding headache.  “Okay, wise guy.  You can tell me how we make a better plane.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So the four forces affecting the plane are gravity, drag, thrust, and lift,” Barry says.  Hal doesn’t lift his head from its comfortable resting spot, but from his voice Hal can easily picture Barry’s furrowed brow and sparkling eyes.  “Gravity and thrust are constant.  So we need better folding and a redesign to reduce drag, and bigger wings to increase lift.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal feels Barry shift to look at him and raises his head to nod.  “Right.  We want them to glide farther, so we need to increase wing loading.”  He grins.  “That’s not what we want for fighter jets.  Those are all about the thrust.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course they are,” Barry says, rolling his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal wiggles his eyebrows.  It barely hurts this time.  Whatever’s in that IV is some good shit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal grabs the paper and starts folding again.  “There’s actually a lot of really specific engineering that goes into optimizing these babies.”  He picks it up, studying it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Keep going,” Barry urges him.  “This is all fascinating.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal glances at Barry.  The manipulation is clear; Barry wants to keep him talking so he sits still and heals faster.  But he’s watching Hal intently, and, as far as Hal knows, has never met a nerdy topic that doesn’t leave him weak at the knees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, Hal’s not above performing for attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, you asked for it.  So, we want a positive dihedral angle…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s been a while since Hal’s talked about this stuff; it came up all the time at Ferris, but the Green Lanterns largely ignore the laws of physics.  Barry’s engaged the whole time, speaking up occasionally with a question or to suggest an example.  Hal barely has to bring up a concept before Barry’s nodding along.  It’s gratifying being on the other side of the Flash Facts, with someone so interested with everything he has to say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He picks up his plane.  As much fun as all this theory talk has been, Hal’s more about the practical applications.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He cocks his arm, winking at Barry before focusing on a point at the opposite side of the gym.  “Thrust.”  He drives forward, releasing in a fluid motion.  “And lift.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The plane flies straight and true, gliding across the room before plowing into a wayward piece of equipment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal turns back to Barry, grinning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry’s staring at him.  The tips of his ears have gone pink.  His eyes are dark, and his tongue flicks out to wet his lips absentmindedly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh…”  Hal mirrors the movement, staring back.  Is he reading this right?  What the hell could have…?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry blinks and goes blurry for a second.  He coughs into his hand, then roughly tugs another sheet from the legal pad.  The harsh tearing sound seems to snap him out of it, because he smiles back at Hal.  Hal does his best to return it, and not let it show on his face how that expression is going to haunt his dreams.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me try.”  Barry’s voice comes out husky and Hal can’t take his eyes off him.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>–––––––</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hal shrugs on his jacket, welcoming the familiar weight after hours of sitting around in a drafty gym without a shirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re back at the medbay.  Or, more accurately, Hal’s waiting outside while Barry finishes putting everything away.  They’d worked their way through the entire legal pad.  Between that and clean up, it’s really late.  Hal’s barely tired, but he’d also been unconscious for the hours prior.  He’s sure Barry’s wiped out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry pops out of the medbay, closing the door behind him and smiling at Hal.  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Hal agrees.  He’s actually feeling pretty damn good.  Having his jacket and ring back help, and so does his body no longer feeling like it’ll fall apart if he moves wrong.  But he knows none of those are the real reason.  “Thanks for staying.  I know you could have run off to Cancun without me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry shakes his head.  “No thanks.  And you were hardly interrupting my busy Friday night.  I would have ended up back in the lab,” he says like it’s a joke.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both know it’s not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ready to get out of here?”  Barry continues after a moment’s silence.  “You know you’re welcome to stay with me, if you want to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was counting on it,” Hal replies, soaking in Barry’s pleased smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re mostly silent as they head to the zeta tubes.  It’s late, and the low whirring of the space station more than fills the space.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, there’s something Hal can’t get off his mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey.” His quiet tone must have caught Barry’s attention, because he turns immediately.  Hal takes one red gloved hand, squeezing it gently.  “I’m not going anywhere.  You know that, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because floating, injured, millions of lightyears from anything doesn’t have the same appeal when he knows that he has this to return to.  Whether it becomes anything else or not, he treasures nights like this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The concern falls away from Barry’s face, replaced by something warm and fond.  He squeezes Hal’s hand back.  “I know.”  He stares at their linked hands for a long moment before releasing Hal and continuing down the hall.  His tone is light when he speaks again.  “You couldn’t have, anyway.  We disabled your access codes so you couldn’t leave without a clean bill of health.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bar!”  As affronted as he is, Hal can’t hold back the laugh.  “That’s awful!  You all trust me that little?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry’s eyes sparkle as he grins back at him.  “Only when it comes to your own health.  I’ve had houseplants better at keeping themselves alive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rude.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s glad the mood always swings so easily back to joking friendship with them.  He’s not against real talk, but he’s had enough for tonight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And if they’re joking around, then he might as well test something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Hal leans right up to Barry’s ear, so close that the fine golden hairs tickle his nose when he says, “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?  We can talk some more… aerodynamics.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry’s ears turn a bright, flaming red, and then he bursts out laughing.  Hal joins in, snickering into his hand, and knocks into Barry’s shoulders as they reach the end of the narrow hallway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They teleport down to Central City, Hal’s eyes glued on the flush riding up the back of Barry’s neck as he tucks some thoughts away for later.  He can work with this.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don't know anything about aerodynamics, but if anyone's interested, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3KqjRPV9_PY">this video</a> has some really interesting descriptions of how paper airplanes work!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Off Brand</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Remember airports?</p>
<p>A good chunk of this was spurred by a conversation I had with <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/finalfrontierpioneer/pseuds/finalfrontierpioneer">finalfrontierpioneer</a> about real person fanfic.  It’s very subtle and naturally integrated into the story. </p>
<p>Also, thank you so much to the indefatigable <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/gumiii_writes/pseuds/gumiii_writes">gumiii_writes</a> , who made the time to look this over for me despite have a VERY good reason not to!  Have fun with Mr. Grumpy Pants and may all your spreadsheets be well designed with consistent data formatting ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Bar, you better get here soon.  This place is the worst and I need to tell you all about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal sends the text and stretches out his legs.  The cracked vinyl chair squeaks in protest and takes its revenge by stabbing its metal frame into his lower back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Around him, a steady stream of travelers rush by.  It's like watching one of those time lapse ant colonies in a nature documentary, except with less military precision and more yelling into phones.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a Wednesday afternoon and he’s in the main terminal of Southern United International Airport, which is more than living up to its abbreviation.  Hal hates airports; they’re the public bus stations of air travel, with smells, incomprehensible PA systems, and pushy crowds to match.  The plastic chair clings to his skin, the air’s been conditioned to hell and back, drying his throat to a shriveled husk, and the family behind him is egging their kid on as she kicks at Hal’s seat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry’s supposed to be here too, but he’s nowhere to be seen.  It’s not like Barry would make the place any less of a hell hole, but it would make complaining about it more satisfying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His phone buzzes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, I’m running late.  Text me about how bad it is?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Running late.  What a surprise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everyone’s rushing everywhere, and for what?  Crappy airport chairs, then crappy plane chairs, and then crappy chairs in their crappy cab when they get to their crappy destination.  My toes have been crushed three times already.”  He grits his teeth as a monster suitcase bangs into his foot.  “Four times.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe they’re rushing to get seats with foot protection.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ha ha.  You’re hilarious.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sitting with your legs sticking out into a walkway?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal surreptitiously rearranges his legs.  “No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not wanting to continue talking about how his injuries aren’t his own fault, Hal texts, “This whole trip is a waste of time anyway.  The team’s full of argumentative assholes, and doing trust falls in a hotel basement in Effingham Illinois isn’t going to change that.”  Hal sends an exploding bomb emoji, realizing a moment too late that it’s not the best choice for an airport.  The TSA already read him the riot act for having the gall to bring mouthwash on a trip with the guy he’s interested in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because Hal came prepared.  He’s got a book of science riddles stashed in his bag, and a list of awful nerdy pick up lines rattling around in his head.  He’d even headed straight to the Gotham News when he’d arrived to pick up a bright red ergonomic neck pillow, because it seemed like the sort of practical, yet tragically uncool thing that Barry would like.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry’s response pops onto the screen.  “I think we’ve got trust falls mastered.  And it's been a while since we did anything like this,” Barry continues.  “It’ll be good for everyone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal fumes.  “You sound like Clark.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal can hear Barry’s frown through the text.  “You should apologize to him when we get there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ugh.  Clark.  This whole fiasco is his brainchild.  Someone had made a joke about a corporate team building retreat, and he’d glommed on to the idea with every ounce of his super strength. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So what if Ollie and Hawkman had gotten into another pointless, repetitive, noisy argument over… Hal can’t even remember.  Just put them on different teams.  It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Hal’s two best friends can’t stand being in a room together, and Hal isn’t booking rope courses and organizing cookouts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Supes being Supes, he couldn’t stand the infighting.  And Hal being Hal, he’d taken one for the team and argued the counterpoint.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If anything should have gotten him out of this debacle, it’s that.  That was an act of pure selflessness.  Because arguing with Supes is worse than arguing with Bats.  When he argues with Batman, everyone knows Bats is the asshole.  But Superman is so </span>
  <em>
    <span>earnest</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he’s trying to </span>
  <em>
    <span>help</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Who cares how terrible his idea is?  How dare Hal make him sad by disagreeing with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even when he’s blatantly wrong and wasting everyone’s time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To add insult to injury, Clark had insisted that they all travel muggle style.  In </span>
  <em>
    <span>coach</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Outside the dirty window, a plane lumbers towards the gate.  It swings wide, and he watches as it backs up and tries the turn again.  After three torturous attempts, it finally reaches the gate.  It’s like watching a teenager parallel park, but ten times worse because it’s a perversion of everything Hal loves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Barry, these planes hurt my soul.  Send help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thing is bulbous and top heavy, lacking the sleek grace of the X-42 Carol refused to let him take up when he’d stopped by Ferris.  Apparently she’s worried about things like “liability insurance” and “protecting the company’s investments” that she’d never cared much for before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But things are different now; he doesn’t have boyfriend privileges, and the pressure of running the company is clearly weighing on her more now that she’s the owner rather than the owner’s daughter.  Years ago, he wouldn’t have thought twice about cajoling her into letting him take the plane up for a joyride, and then take her out on a date afterwards, HR team be damned.  Last week he’d joked with her about making sure he’s on the schedule and then gotten out of her hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Huh.  Well, he doesn’t want to dwell on that any more than he wants to think about the smattering of grey hairs he’d found by his temples.  Those had been pulled posthaste, never to be thought of again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He checks his phone.  Three whole minutes have passed since his last message, and still no response.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are you?  You remember you need time to get through airport security, right?  After you made sure to remind ME to get here two hours before the flight?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The response is immediate this time.  “Okay, okay.  I’m leaving now.  See you soon?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>God, what a dork.  He always ends his texts like that, like they’re letters or some shit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just get over here already.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His stomach growls.  Of fucking course.  He’d run out the door and hadn’t had time to supplement the trio of ketchup packets that had stared up at him mockingly from his otherwise empty fridge.  There’s a sandwich kiosk nearby, but it looks like it’s trying too hard to be trendy, which means that he’ll be able to afford half a sandwich with the fifteen dollars and twenty three cents in his pocket.  He heads for the Gotham News instead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wanders over unenthusiastically.  There’s a table with the obligatory trite Coast City souvenirs t-shirts and baseball caps.  He studies the table with the Green Lantern merch a little more closely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It occurs to him that he has no idea who licenses his merchandise, or any of the heroes’ emblems.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s got to be Bruce, right?  If it isn’t, then he hasn’t a clue.  No one’s served him with a cease and desist for wearing his uniform so far.  But if Bats </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>making bank off the copyrights, then he’s that much more of a dick for cheaping out on the plane tickets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ugh.  Even Hal can’t stay mad at Supes.  Being pissed at Bats just comes so much more naturally.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s heading for the snacks in the back corner when a brightly colored shelf catches his attention.  He takes a step closer and almost chokes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neatly arranged on the top of the shelf are a collection of Justice League themed romance novels.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, sorry.  “Champions of Justice.”  Apparently they didn’t want to pay Bats for the Justice League branding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Staring up at him are a line of sultry, shirtless models wearing off-brand versions of his friends’ outfits.  The first book features a tattooed, long haired hunk with a trident.  The next has an oiled up dude in suspenders and badly photoshopped eagle wings he assumes is supposed to be Hawkman.  He’d be lying if he said he isn’t familiar with the porn parodies, but this is his first encounter with this particular market.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal sends a picture of the line of books to Oliver, along with the caption “See what you’re missing on your private jet?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because if Bat’s isn’t going to pay for his leg room, he’s going to pay for Hal’s data plan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He immediately shuffles the books around to find the Green Lantern knockoff.  The cover model’s okay, Hal supposes, but then they were always going to have trouble finding someone with his natural good looks, great hair, and amazing muscle definition.  The guy’s tiny Halloween mask also isn’t doing him any favors.  Hal briefly considers all the times he’s been told the same about his own mask, but quickly dismisses the thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He flips the book over, skimming the summary.  “Devilishly handsome,” obviously.  “Recklessly throwing himself into danger,” sure, he’ll take that, and… Oh, come on!  They could have come up with a better name than Green Gladiator!  They’re not even trying!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s barely finished the summary before he gets a reply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Predictably, Ollie asks, “Where’s the Green Arrow one?”  And then, a couple seconds later, “You’re welcome to join me.  Just admit that the Arrowplane is a fantastic name, and far superior to any you suggested.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.  It’s the worst.  And you’re the worst for liking it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The books are stacked three deep on the shelf, and Hal flips through each one to make sure he’s absorbing the full range of options.  This is really expanding his horizons.  Because apparently someone’s romantic fantasy is to bang Guy Gardner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sets that one aside.  It’s got a very important date with the Oa break room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a thorough search, he’s ready to call it.  “Nope, nada.”  As an afterthought, he adds, “The next shelf is rich asshole romances.  You’re probably in there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His phone bings.  “It’s cute, how funny you think you are.”  Then, “I can’t believe Booster Gold got one and I didn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal stashes his phone.  Ollie’s going to be sulking for a bit, which gives him plenty of time to look at…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A woman wanders over, glancing over Hal’s shoulder.  He snatches the book up before she can get it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Lovestruck by Lightning.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  The cover artist had the good sense to photograph their model from behind, obviously familiar with their inspiration’s assets.  Even without immediate reference, Hal’s comfortable saying it can’t compare.  Granted, he’s been uniquely blessed with access and opportunity to view the original.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal gathers his purchases.  There’s a bit of a line, so he pulls out his phone.  Looks like Ollie’s still sulking, which is rich, considering that he’s the reason Hal’s here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In case you need more reasons you’re the worst, add this trip to the list.  You just couldn’t keep your opinions in your pants in front of Clark, could you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ollie’s rebuttal is as swift as it is biting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For a guy intergalactically known for his will, you sure get talked into a lot of shit you don’t want to do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And this is why Hal prefers complaining to Barry.</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Where the hell is Barry?  If Hal has to sit for hours on a commercial airplane by himself, he’s going to lose it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>First class boarding had come and gone, along with a bunch of random categories that Hal’s pretty sure the airline just made up.  He’s glancing over his shoulder every thirty seconds by the time his section’s called.  He checks his phone for the fiftieth time, but no, nothing since Ollie’s feelings of inadequacy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mostly Hal’s annoyed with himself.  Why’d he let Supes talk him into this?  He should have powered up his ring and flown like he’d originally intended, subsequent chewing out be damned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a scuffle on the main walkway, and a familiar voice apologizes profusely.  Hal’s eyes snap up and immediately spot Barry helping a family collect their scattered luggage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right.  There’s why.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal jogs over as Barry apologizes again.  The family ignores him, the parents more interested in wrangling their children and power walking away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude, where were you?  Come on, we need to–“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He cuts himself off as Barry lifts his head and Hal finally gets a good look at him.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry’s a mess.  His hair’s windswept like he ran through a wind tunnel, and his shaded eyes are picking up the color of the heavy circles beneath them.  He relaxes when he recognizes Hal, but the dopey half-smile doesn’t do anything to calm Hal’s racing nerves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal frowns.  He knows Barry’s not great at taking care of himself, but he usually does better than </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on,” he says, grabbing Barry’s bag and ignoring his protests.  He guides them back into line by his own abandoned luggage, ignoring the glare from the guy behind him.  He reaches up, smoothing Barry’s mussed hair into something vaguely presentable.  “What happened, man?  You’re dead on your feet.  You should have called if something came up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry gapes at him for a moment before shaking his head.  Hal wonders if he even noticed he did it.  The handful of times he’s dealt with a totally zonked Barry, he had trouble maintaining human speed.  Barry knows it too; from what Hal can tell, that’s the main reason Barry tries to get a decent night’s sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would have, but it was all lab work,” Barry says.  He’s blinking a lot, clearly trying to wake himself up.  “I didn’t want cases sitting around because I was away.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A guy lugging a massive carry-on veers towards Barry.  Hal grabs Barry by the shoulders, pulling him out of the way.  “Hey, watch it!” he snarls at the man’s back.  If this airport thing is meant to help them connect with the civilians they shuttle out of harm’s way on a daily basis, then it’s backfiring.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal takes a long breath.  Now that he knows Barry’s answer, he wonders why he even bothered to ask.  Still, he lowers his voice and leans in to say, “If you’re this dead on your feet, why didn’t you just run over tomorrow?  It’s not like people aren’t already expecting you to be late.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry’s puppy dog eyes freeze Hal where he stands.  Or maybe they’re panda eyes, given the dark circles under them?  Raccoon?  “I told you I’d be here.” Hal’s heart melts, even as he wants to smack him.  Barry’s lips quirk up, though it only serves to make him look more tired.  “You know, to support you through your awful fear of flying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal barks a laugh, ignoring the annoyed heads of the other passengers swiveling his way.  He pats Barry’s back.  “Hilarious.  Just try to stay upright for a couple more minutes and then you can sleep on the plane.  You’re not going to be missing anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll have to tell me all about it.”  Barry cuts himself off to yawn into his hand.  “On the trip back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, hell no.  I’ve had more than enough of this, thanks.  I don’t care what Clark says, as soon as it hits 3pm on Friday, I’m lighting up and getting out of there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I’d been meaning to ask.”  This finally wakes Barry up, if only marginally.  “I called the hotel, and they’re able to extend the rooms through the weekend.  If you wanted to hang around for another couple of days.  A few of the others are doing it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry’s talking too much, giving way too many details for the seemingly innocuous request.  They hang out all the time.  Half the time they finish a mission they stick around to try the local chow, or visit some landmark Barry always wanted to see.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Should he be reading into this?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Who is he kidding?  None of that matters; he’s doing it either way.  “Yeah, sure Bar.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry’s smile is bleary eyed but bright, and Hal leaves him alone while they board.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The inside of the plane is even worse than the outside.  After getting blasted by the desert heat waiting at the gate, the over-processed, over-conditioned air of the cabin is stifling.  He can already smell feet, and the plane’s only half full.  He spares a longing look at the spacious first class seats before trudging farther back.  And hey, look, a bunch of assholes jumped the line and are already seated.  They get to stay packed in this tuna can longer than they have to; he doubts their ill-gotten overhead compartment space is worth it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barry takes the middle seat because he’s a saint, and is half asleep by the time Hal sits down.  Predictably, they have negative leg room; Hal’s 6’2” and Barry’s all leg, so their knees will definitely have tray table indents by the end of the trip.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal’s stomach growls again, and he’s met with a bag of trail mix that Barry hands over wordlessly. Hal digs out the “U” shaped pillow and hands it to Barry, who smiles appreciatively and adjusts it for full ergonomic potential.  Despite the noise and the jostling of the seats as boarding continues, he immediately dozes off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He must have been exhausted</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Hal thinks, studying the tiny movements of Barry’s eyelashes.  Hal’s not sure he’s ever seen Barry sleep in public before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal lets out a breath, trying to let go of his disappointment with it.  He’d been looking forward to spending the couple uninterrupted hours with Barry; despite Hal mostly being on Earth these days, between their jobs, their “jobs,” and every other sort of distraction, they still don’t get to spend much time together.  And maybe Hal’s a little greedy for Barry’s time and attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lacking anything else to do, Hal reaches into his bag.  Oh right, the ridiculous novels.  The red and gold cover of the off brand Flash romance greets him.  Hal smirks and flips it open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not bad.  Yeah, the audience surrogate protagonist is a little bland, and the author clearly hasn’t experienced the disorientation of being moved at super speed, but he can think of worse ways to pass a couple hours.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something warm presses against his shoulder.  Hal turns.  Barry’s slid over into his space, face pressed into the fur collar of Hal’s jacket.  He shifts as Hal watches, nestling his body as close as his flight attendant approved seat belt will allow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Okay, Hal can definitely spend a couple hours like this, circulation be damned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gets a whiff of cologne, and frowns.  Actually, now that he’s looking, Barry’s dressed pretty nicely, the fitted jeans and polo the same blue as his eyes clearly not what he would have worn to work.  Who dresses up for the airport?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a shutter snap and Hal’s eyes snap forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, don’t mind me,” Dinah says from behind her phone.  She’s seated two rows forward on the other side of the aisle, where she uncrosses and re-crosses her legs to show off her ample leg room her shorter legs allow.  “You two look like you’re having a good time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you even doing here?” Hal asks.  “You didn’t ride with Ollie?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I had a gig down here.  And I don’t get to ride in the jet unless I tell Ollie its nickname isn’t terrible.”  She smirks.  “But I also told him I’d never lie to his face, so, here I am.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That hypocrite, punishing us for standing by our convictions,” Hal says, grinning.  “I’m still surprised Bruce didn’t get you a better seat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, he had me in business class, but I downgraded.  He said the savings would go towards HQ upgrades.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That asshole.  He originally had me all the way in the back, in a middle seat too!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What the hell, Spooky?  He’s actively trying to get on Hal’s nerves, right?  There’s no other explanation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?  I figured you’d both downgraded.”  She pointed at Barry.  “He did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal turns his head slightly, blond hair tickling his cheek.  If Dinah was in first class, Bruce definitely would have put Barry there too.  Barry hadn’t said a thing, even though Hal had been moaning about this for weeks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That heart stutter’s back again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dinah rests her head on a hand casually.  “So what are you reading?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal smirks.  “Oh, you know.  Just a little something I picked up for the trip.”  He’d pass her the book, but the dude’s ass on the cover is pretty blatant, even from where she’s sitting.  The lightning effects act as arrows, pointing straight to it.  “I’m reading this one, but I got some others.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He digs into his bag and tosses her a book.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She starts laughing when she sees the cover.  It’s the shiniest, plastic-iest version of her suit outside a bondage shop, with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tough Lovebirds</span>
  </em>
  <span> printed boldly across it.  “I see you’re a man of high culture.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know it,” Hal says with a wink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiles back, softer this time.  “I’ll send you the picture when we land.  And then delete it before Ollie ‘accidentally’ finds it on my phone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks.”  He hadn’t told Dinah about his feelings, but he wouldn’t be surprised if she knew everything anyway.  Hell, she probably knew before he did.  But she’s his friend.  One he even trusts not to be an asshole about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shifts in his seat as much as he can without dislodging Barry.  “Now when’s this thing getting going?  I want out of here already.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The intercom system crackles to life and Hal’s stomach drops.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is your captain speaking.  Due to technical difficulties, we will be returning to the gate for a maintenance check.  We will keep you updated as we receive additional information.  Thank you for your patience.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dinah bursts out laughing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hal would sink into his seat, but that would wake Barry.  The guy’s exhausted; Hal can’t disturb him up when he so clearly needs the sleep.  And if Hal ends up a little closer to their shared armrest, well, then he can just blame it on his fear of flying.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If Los Angeles International Airport is LAX, then Southern United International Airport is…  I know, such high brow humor.</p>
<p>Now with <a href="https://finalfrontierpioneer.tumblr.com/post/649405182221893632/my-take-on-a-couple-of-the-trashy-romance-novel">AMAZING COVERS</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/finalfrontierpioneer/pseuds/finalfrontierpioneer">finalfrontierpioneer</a>!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>